I counted again when the pain rose, again when a sudden gust carried dust across my face.

There were moments when I wondered if I had imagined the voice beneath the earth.

Then it came back, telling me officers were near and that I was not alone.

I had spent years trying to make myself small enough not to provoke Garrett.

I had avoided friends he disliked and changed doctors when he complained about their questions.

I had learned to hear his car from half a block away and to recognize his mood by the way he put his keys down.

None of those accommodations had made me safe.